


Turn The Page

by blackmariahlee



Series: We've Won the Battle, But the War Is Still Going [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Catholicism, Churches & Cathedrals, Explicit Language, M/M, Smoking, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmariahlee/pseuds/blackmariahlee
Summary: When Steve is confronted with choices about his future, he struggles to reconcile his future with his past. And his present. He needs to make a decision. He needs absolution. He needs...Tony Stark.





	Turn The Page

**Author's Note:**

> This is part five of We've Won the Battle, But the War Is Still Going series! It can potentially be read on it's own but I would recommend reading the previous entries. I apologize for the delay on this one but...Endgame sort of put a damper on my little Stony shipping heart. But I figured if I wanna fix it, I gotta go back to the beginning. So here I am.

“Take a seat, Captain.” Fury gestured to the chair across the conference table from him. Steve eyed him for a minute before he sat down. “I appreciate you finally agreeing to meet with me.” 

“Well, you didn’t give me much choice. Is it typical of SHIELD to harass friends and family of potential recruits?” 

“Only potential recruits that need a little push. Ask Mr. Stark how he was courted. I’m sure he’ll tell you.” 

“And I’m sure Mr. Stark would tell you that he doesn’t work for SHIELD.” 

“I hear you’re spending a lot of time with him.” Fury leaned back in his chair. “Moved into that godawful building and everything.” 

“I couldn’t stay in Brooklyn, sir. Just wasn’t the same.” 

“That’s fair.” Fury leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “Shall we cut to the chase, Captain?” 

“I would appreciate that, sir.” 

“I’m putting together a new Strike Team. And I want you in charge.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, I thought I was already in charge of the Avengers.” 

“You are. And you still will be. But we don’t need the Avengers on a weekly basis. Hell, I’m hoping we’ll never need them again. That isn’t likely to happen, though. Still, a monthly meeting outside of world ending crisis should be plenty to keep the team afloat.” 

“Forgive me, Director, but I disagree. Any team that hopes to have a chance at success needs to build a bond, a trust. That doesn’t happen overnight.” 

“It happened for you and Stark.” 

“I promise you, it did not.” 

“The footage says otherwise.” Fury pulled up news coverage from the Battle on the screen in the conference room. “Now prior to a day before this, you two had never even met.” 

“Mr. Stark studied footage of all of us when you recruited him to track down Loki. And he has a far better understanding of the vibranium than I ever could. In that moment, it was instinct.” 

“It was trust. You trusted him right then. Not just with your shield or the battle but with your life. And you trusted him when you took his offer to live in the Tower.” 

“Are you coming to the point, Director?” 

“My point is that despite having almost no experience working together, the whole team worked seamlessly. It clicked. I don’t need you running point on a team that doesn’t run missions all the time. I need you running point on this team.” 

“With all due respect, sir, you don’t need Captain America running a SHIELD strike team. I’m vastly overqualified.” 

“Perhaps. But what are you doing in the mean time? Breaking punching bags? Running all over Manhattan, Brooklyn, and the Tristate area?” Fury shrugged and leaned back again. “The team is based in DC, at SHIELD headquarters. You would have an apartment, transportation, and a very nice salary. Romanoff will be on the team. Ultimately, the choice is yours, Captain Rogers. I’ll give you a few weeks to think it over.” 

“Am I dismissed?” Steve stood from his chair. Fury looked him over before he nodded. 

“You’re dismissed, Captain.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Steve turned and left the conference room. The meeting was pretty much exactly as he had expected. Washington, DC had been a bit of a surprise. But then again, where better to have a shadowy, government agency? The FBI, the CIA, and SHIELD. Each one more secretive than the last. Still, Fury had a point. What was Steve going to do otherwise? He couldn’t stay at the Tower forever. 

“Good to see a familiar face.” Steve looked up to see Natasha leaning against the wall beside the elevator doors. 

“I get the feeling most faces are familiar to you.” She just smirked and pushed off from the wall. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just wanted to see how your meeting went.” Natasha pushed the call button for the elevator. “Fury offer you the job in DC?” 

“You already know the answer to that.” Steve stepped onto the elevator and Natasha followed. 

“And did you take it?” 

“He gave me a few weeks to think it over.” 

“You should take it.” Natasha crossed her arms. “I know after the Helicarrier, you aren’t inclined to trust SHIELD. But I think we need you, Steve.” 

“SHIELD doesn’t need Captain America and it sure as hell doesn’t need Steve Rogers.” He looked down at the floor. “Fury wants the public on his side and Captain America is perfect for that. But he needs the Security Council too. Steve Rogers fits the bill for the suits.” 

“They certainly think he does.” Natasha gave him a smile. “But I think we both know that you aren’t quite what people think. And the public, the WSC, and Fury are in for a surprise.” 

“And you know what I am?” Steve didn’t mean for it to sound bitter but maybe that was unavoidable. 

“I know that you don’t follow orders blindly. Which is what Fury and the WSC are hoping for. And I know that you aren’t the all-American golden boy that the public wants.” The elevator doors slid open and Steve stepped off. She followed behind him. “Come on, Steve. Let me buy you lunch.” He sighed. He didn’t have any reason to refuse but he wasn’t sure he wanted to endure an entire lunch of Natasha Romanoff trying to dissect him. 

“Sure. Why not?” 

“I’m not saying that SHIELD is perfect or even the best place for you right now.” Natasha stirred her ice tea idly as she spoke. “But what else are you going to do? You could make SHIELD a better place, Steve.” 

“I don’t know, Nat.” He leaned back against the sticky booth and crossed his arms. “I enlisted to fight Nazis. I didn’t mean to...become some symbol or anything more than just another enlisted private. This was never what I wanted to do with my life.” 

“Then what do you want to do?” She was watching him closely and it irked him. What did he want to do with his life? Jesus, he had never even thought about it. He started to laugh. “What is so funny?” 

But Steve couldn’t stop laughing. It was all just so absurd. He was sitting across from an international spy in a sticky New York diner in 2012 and she was asking what he wanted to be when he grew up. The kicker was that he had never thought about his future because nobody expected him to have one. It was a miracle that he had lived long enough to become Captain America. And during the war they all talked about after but nobody knew for sure if there would be an after. Now here he was, 68 years later, with no plan. And he was supposed to be the man with the plan. 

“Steve? Seriously, what is so damn funny?” Natasha sounded a little irritated. He looked up at her and started laughing all over again. 

This was it. His life had reached it’s pinnacle of absurdity. He had thought that happened 70 years ago. Or maybe even when he kissed Tony Stark and begged him not to go back to California. But no. It was here. A modern diner made to evoke nostalgia for an era he had never even lived through. A Russian spy that had defected to the United States. A product of a war he had not fought in. Music playing through the speakers that was considered old but was all new to him. And what did he want to do with his life? 

Steve Rogers, the son of poor Irish immigrants, should have died during the Depression. Between his constant illnesses and the lack of food his mother had been sure he wouldn’t make it. He should have died in the mines or a construction crew. The only jobs he would have been likely to get before the war. And the war...hell, they all should have died in the war. If his ma could see him now. 92 years old and healthy as a horse. Christ, what the fuck had gone wrong in his life that he was sitting in this diner? 

“I’m sorry, Natasha. It’s just...I never thought about it.” Steve finally shook his head, the laughter fading. “I guess I’m not really qualified for anything else anyhow.” 

“Steve, you could run for president if you wanted to. And probably win.” Natasha shrugged. “It’s not a matter of qualification.” 

“Definitely not qualified to run for president. I think the president should have a basic knowledge of history past 1945. And better than a high school education from 1938.” Steve sighed. “All things considered, I guess I would feel like shit if I wasted the gifts that Dr. Erskine gave me. I should be out saving the world.” 

“You would certainly look out of place sitting behind a desk all day. And you’d be okay moving to DC?” 

“I can’t say it’s my favorite place in the world.” Steve shrugged and tried not to think about moving to another city. He would be moving out of the Tower. Away from Bruce and Clint and Tony. Tony. Therein laid a huge problem. He wondered if that’s what Natasha meant. And if it was, how did she know? 

“Well, it’s no New York City.” Natasha sighed and looked out the window, slightly foggy with years of grease build up. “But it might be better for you to be in a new environment. Maybe it wouldn’t feel like you were chasing the past while trying to live in the present.” 

“I seriously doubt that.” 

“Then at least it would get you out of the Tower.” Natasha cocked an eyebrow at him and Steve felt something cold run down his spine. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, not really. But the look that Natasha had fixed him with made him feel like he was being scolded by one of the sisters for fighting. 

“I get out of the Tower. I get out every day.” Steve was trying for nonchalance. He wasn’t convinced he had nailed it. 

“Steve.” Natasha leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I think we both know that’s not what I mean.” Steve looked away and couldn’t come up with an excuse before she started talking again. “Don’t think that I haven’t noticed. Hell, Bruce has noticed. Clint would notice if he were around to see it.” 

“Notice what?” 

“You’re not subtle at all, Steve. And while the kicked puppy look that you’re constantly giving Tony behind his back is adorable, it’s getting a little sad.” 

“...Has Tony noticed?” 

“Tony is so egotistical and self-absorbed he wouldn’t notice if you stripped naked in front of him and covered yourself in whipped cream.” She reached out and gently laid a hand on his arm. “You’re pining for the very wrong person here.” 

“Gee, thanks. That hadn’t occurred to me.” Steve pulled away from the comforting touch and crossed his arms. “So did you take me to lunch just to tell me that I’m sad and pathetic? Cuz you coulda just told me in the elevator.” 

“You aren’t sad and pathetic. I just want to point out that there’s no reason to stay here. Not really. Tony is with Pepper and I think he intends to stay that way. And he’s going back to Malibu before Christmas.” Steve felt a weight in his chest. 

“He is?” 

“He didn’t tell you?” 

“No, I mean—he mentioned it but...” But I asked him to stay. The words caught in his throat and he cleared it. “It didn’t sound definite last time we talked.” 

“Well, it’s definite now. A couple weeks before Christmas.” Natasha sighed. “Look, you’ve been through enough, Steve. I understand the appeal of Tony Stark. There’s a reason he has such an infamous reputation. I’m just trying to save you a little heartache. Move on from New York and from Stark Industries. Get a real fresh start.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve felt numb. He didn’t know what he had expected. Of course Tony wasn’t going to stay. What did Tony have to stick around for? Pepper was already back in Malibu. His company and his house and his actual friends. Steve shouldn’t be feeling so angry and betrayed. He had no right. Tony was not his. It had felt like it. For a brief and beautiful moment, holding each other in the harsh lights of the gym, Tony had been his. 

“At least think about it. DC isn’t so bad. Pretty great museums and theaters. I think you could do really well there, Steve.” 

“Sure. I’ll think about it. Promise.” 

“Scouts honor?” 

“Why does everyone think I was a boy scout?” Natasha laughed. 

“Captain America is a boy scout, then. Steve Rogers--” 

“Barely managed to go to school most days. Never was a damn boy scout.” 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Steve automatically crossed himself. Guess his muscle memory was pretty impressive too. 

“How long since your last confession?” The priest’s voice was rough with age and Steve felt like he was 8 years old again. Kneeling in the same confessional, dark and stuffy as it had been the last time he had been here. 

“It has been 76 years since my last confession. Not since Ma died.” There was a stunned silence before the priest cleared his throat. 

“I see. What brings you to confession today, my son?” 

“I have been having impure thoughts and coveting. I have been having thoughts of death, wishing that I were.” Steve heaved a sigh. “It would have been so much better if I had just... Too damn stubborn to die I guess.” 

“Or the Lord had other plans for you. He does--” 

“Do not say He works in mysterious ways. Even if it’s true, it’s bullshit. God doesn’t work in mysterious ways. He’s just a vindictive son of a bitch.” His mother she would have slapped him upside the head for using language like that in a church. 

“Do you really believe that? Everything God does is cruel and vindictive?” 

“It’s a sick irony. I should have died so many times and I never did. When I was a kid, when I was an adult, in the war. I wasn’t supposed to live to see my 21st birthday. And here I am. But people that should have lived long, happy, healthy lives are gone. Where is the good in that?” 

“We don’t know yet.” This was a stupid idea. What had Steve expected to get out of this? Peace? Calm? “But whatever the purpose is, you have every right to be alive.” 

“I’m no good to anybody anymore. I can’t hear a treadmill without thinking of overhead planes. That day it snowed...it took me right back to Germany. And I couldn’t...I can’t even face the man that I’ve been having impure thoughts about. How am I supposed to face the things I can’t run away from?” 

“You just said it yourself. You cannot run from these things. The only thing to do is face them. I’ve had soldiers in my confessional for years now. They all run from the same things. The enemy, the gunfire, the humidity of the jungles of Vietnam, the biting winds of Germany and Russia, the scorching sands of Afghanistan. These things live within you. And you cannot run from yourself.” 

“And how am I supposed to learn how to live with this every day?” Steve hated the desperation in his voice. 

“That is something that you must discover on your own. Have faith, son, and God will guide you through this.” 

“And what if God hates me? What if He’s abandoned me because of who I am?” 

“God loves all his children.” 

“Even the ones that are queer?” Steve challenged the priest. He would never admit it, but he waited for the answer with bated breath. 

“My son...God hates the sin, not the sinner. And just as all men are created equally, so are their sins. Sin does not exist on a spectrum. The lie you told to your mother as a child is the same as the impure thoughts you have for this man. A sin is a sin. And Jesus Christ was crucified to pay for all sin. Not just the sins that most of Christianity find palatable.” 

“Catholic church has changed a lot since my last confession.” Steve leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Not all of it. Not enough of it. Personally, I find the idea that God should hate anyone simply for who they are deplorable. And I do my best to teach a message of love and acceptance and forgiveness.” Steve didn’t know why, but he felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. “My son, it is not forgiveness from the Lord that you need. But forgiveness for yourself. You must forgive yourself for surviving. You must forgive yourself for your impure thoughts. God has already forgiven you. He simply waits for you to forgive yourself and accept His love and forgiveness.” 

“I don’t know if I can.” Steve choked on a sob and he hated it. He hated how weak he was. Even as a scrawny kid he usually managed to hold it together. “I don’t if I can forgive myself for Buck or Peggy or Ma... For everyone I couldn’t save. For wanting Tony so badly just because he makes it all go away. I can’t put all of this on him but, God, I can’t carry it all alone and I--” Steve broke off to keep from crying right there in the stupid confessional. 

“Is this man a friend of yours?” Steve cleared his throat before he answered. 

“Yeah, I think so. But I want more and I can’t have it.” 

“And why not?” 

“Aside from the fact that he is...well, he’s too good for me. He’s got a girlfriend. And they’re happy and moving back to California.” 

“Ah. Well, you deserve happiness as much as he does. And I think it is wise and admirable not to let your own feelings interfere with their relationship. If you cannot lean on him, surely there is someone else in your life that can help you carry these burdens.” 

“It’s hard to tell. I guess I have...two identities and I don’t know which one it is people care about. The public hero or the private soldier.” 

“I am afraid there is only one way to find out.” Steve sighed and he thought he heard the priest chuckle. “The Lord is always here for you. And so am I. The Church of St. Patrick’s is a sanctuary for you, should you need it.” 

“...Thank you, Father.” 

“Go in peace, my son.” Steve crossed himself and stood from the confessional. He remembered always being sore as a kid. It was hard on his bony knees to kneel for that long. But now he was only a little stiff from being hunched over in the small space. 

The church was just as he remembered it. Candles and incense smoke filling the space with a calming filter of gentle smoke. It made the lights seems dimmer and the space feel warm and welcoming. He hadn’t set foot in the church since his mother’s funeral. She would have been disappointed in him but he couldn’t face it. He had even changed his route when walking to work to avoid passing the church. Now he felt a little silly about it. Of course this priest was a lot different than the one from his youth. 

Steve stepped out of the church back onto the Brooklyn streets. Truth be told, he hadn’t been to his old neighborhood since he had come out of the ice. He had not been ready to see what Bay Ridge looked like now. It certainly wasn’t as jarring as Time Square had been. Or hearing that the Dodgers had moved to LA. Still, it was different. His phone started ringing and pulled him out of his memories. 

“This is Steve.” 

“This is Tony.” Usually, Steve would be thankful to hear his voice. But after hearing that Tony would be leaving... “You out breaking more punching bags? Meeting with Fury that bad?” 

“No. I uh...I was walking around my old neighborhood actually.” 

“Oh yeah? Anything left of it?” 

“Church is still here. I swear Sister Agnes was glaring at me from the schoolyard.” 

“Come on, you did not get in trouble with nuns.” 

“Are you kidding? I was always gettin in trouble for fightin’.” 

“God, that is adorable.” Steve shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it and breathed out a sigh. 

“What is?” 

“Well, first that you were always a scrappy little shit. But when you aren’t trying to hide it, your Brooklyn accent is surprisingly hot.” 

“Did you call for something in particular, Tony?” Steve started walking back to his bike. Tony was really going to be the death of him. 

“Oh, yeah.” He thought he heard the sound of a wrench or screwdriver hitting the floor. “I was gonna order Chinese and watch some old Star Trek episodes. Thought maybe you’d like to join me?” Steve took a long draw of his cigarette and sighed. He should say no. He should tell Tony that he had other plans or he was leaving the country. Steve was just about to say something like that but his mouth had other ideas. 

“Sure, Tony. That sounds like fun.” He closed his eyes and cursed himself. He really was a glutton for punishment wasn’t he? 

“Great! So you’re on your way back to the Tower?” Tony sounded genuinely delighted and Steve hated him a little bit. 

“Yeah. I’ll see in a bit.” Steve climbed onto his bike and the roar of the engine drowned out Tony’s reply. The call ended and Steve put the phone back in his pocket. Lord, give him strength. 

Steve pulled into the garage of the Tower and was surprised to see Tony. He had assumed that Tony had been in his workshop but nope. Tony was working on one of his classic cars. Tony looked up at Steve’s approach and dropped the wrench he was holding again. Steve cut the engine and tilted his head at Tony, who was staring at him. 

“...What? Do I have bugs in my hair?” Steve ran a hand through his hair. It was standing up at odd angles but seemed clean of bugs. 

“Huh? Oh! No! I just...I hadn’t seen the new leather jacket we got you in action yet. It uh...it looks really good on you. With the bike and the hair and the cigarette. You look like a greaser out of West Side Story.” 

“...Thank you?” Steve got off the bike and walked over to Tony. He looked good. Oil smeared on his cheek and his jeans riding low with his black tank top. Steve could see a sliver of his abdomen and he wished he could get down on his knees and lick it. Fuck, he should have stayed at church. 

“It’s a compliment. Trust me.” Tony grinned at him and reached up to ruffle his hair. “No helmet, Mr. Responsible?” 

“Nah. Super soldier, remember? Asphalt is no match for the thickness of my skull.” 

“Well, no argument here.” Tony smirked and gently knocked the side of Steve’s head. “Still, it would be a pity to muck up that pretty, pretty face.” 

“My face has seen worse.” Steve tried for light-hearted but as he said it, he could hear the bombs going off and the flash of the light blinding him. 

“Come on, soldier. I got cheesy 1960s sci-fi to show you.” Tony took Steve’s hand and pulled him to the elevator. 

They hadn’t talked about or made any mention of the kiss since it had happened. But Steve noticed that Tony no longer hesitated when he went to touch him. And Tony was very touchy. They were all simple, friendly touches but any time Tony touched him, Steve could feel his heart race. Tony surely didn’t mean anything by them. And Steve had to stop reading into things. The guy grew up in a different time than Steve. Two men holding hands wasn’t automatically gay or even a crime. Steve had spent a couple sleepless nights reading all about Stonewall and toxic masculinity and second wave feminism and the sexual revolution. It had been fascinating. And he was a little sorry to have missed it. 

“So, what did Solid Snake want?” 

“He wants me to lead a new Strike team for SHIELD out of DC.” Tony dropped Steve’s hand and stared at him. “What? I mean, it’s pretty much what I expected.” 

“But...DC? As in, Washington?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“Steve, honey...” Tony hesitated and the pet name thing was slowly killing Steve as well. “You can’t go to DC. They would chew you up and spit you out.” 

“I’m not going to Congress, Tony. Besides, I haven’t even decided if I’m going or not.” Steve crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. JARVIS had started the elevator for the penthouse without either of them saying anything. 

“I don’t think you should.” Tony shrugged. “I think you’ve earned a vacation, Steve. Jesus, you’ve been working nonstop. You had just woken up in a new century and they were shoving the shield back in your hands and shooing you out the door to fight aliens!” 

“What else am I gonna do?” Steve had sort of resigned himself to this already. After his talk with Natasha. 

“Whatever you want.” Tony moved into his space and Steve was surprised at the sudden gentler tone. “Be a docent at a museum, take up sculpting, decide to be a concert pianist.” Tony cupped the side of his face and Steve leaned into the touch. “You have to stop letting the world decide what you can or can’t do.” 

“This is what I’m good at, Tony. This is...this is what I was made for. To fight. To win. I can’t just...lay down the shield and disappear into the woods.” 

“Why not? I think you would make an excellent lumberjack.” The doors to the elevator opened and Tony grabbed his hand again and pulled him into the penthouse. “A full beard, plaid flannel, those clunky hiking boots. God, all over the country, ovaries are exploding at the mere thought.” 

“I don’t know what that even means.” Steve allowed himself to be dragged behind Tony. The most he had seen of the penthouse was during the Battle of New York. Now, it was a lot cleaner and devoid of demi-gods trying to take over the planet. It was still too angular and modern for Steve’s tastes. Much like the whole building. 

“Don’t worry about it. Sit.” Tony pushed him onto the couch. “I’m gonna change really quick. Make yourself at home. And stop looking like you shouldn’t be sitting on the furniture or something.” Tony disappeared into the bedroom and Steve sighed. 

What the hell was he doing here? He didn’t belong here. Not in a billionaire, genius, philanthropist’s penthouse while his girlfriend was away in Malibu. In their actual home. Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. This was bad and he was an idiot. But he was here now. And he certainly couldn’t back out of an evening with Tony. First because he really didn’t want to and second because Tony would probably take it personally. And Steve didn’t want to hurt him. Not when it was Steve and his stupid feelings that were the problem. Tony had done nothing wrong. 

Steve shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to the other couch in the room. They were just two friends, enjoying each other's company, watching tv. Do not be weird about this. Of course, that was easier said than done. Steve stood from the couch and took stock of the room. The large window that Loki had thrown Tony through was fixed. No more broken glass glittering on the floor. Speaking of the floor, for whatever reason, Tony had not fixed the large dent and crumbling tiles where Hulk had...well...smashed Loki. 

“Every time I look at it, it reminds me how soundly we all kicked his ass.” Tony’s voice came from behind him and he turned. Tony and traded in his jeans for more comfortable looking black sweats and his dirty tank top for a worn AC/DC t-shirt. He must have taken a quick shower too because his hair was damp and sticking up in different directions. 

“Still a little disappointed that I missed Hulk tossing Loki around like a ragdoll.” 

“I know. It’s devastating.” Tony threw himself down on the couch and sighed. “And rude. Hulk couldn’t have waited for the rest of us to show up for that?” 

“I’m sure Bruce would have. Hulk...not so much.” Steve wandered back over to the couch and dropped down beside Tony. Even now, dressed down and tired after a long day, Tony was beautiful. Steve looked him over and his eyes lingered a little too long on his lips. God, he could still feel those lips against his. Tony had tasted like coffee and oil and sunshine. Steve wanted to taste that again. 

“You said something about Chinese food?” Steve finally found his voice and wondered if he was the only one that could feel this. The air seemed thick. Too heavy to get a real, deep breath. It was all in his head. Just breathe normal you fucking idiot. 

“I did! It should be here in just a minute.” Tony gave him a smile and they both jumped a little when JARVIS spoke. 

“The food has arrived just now, sirs.” Tony jumped up from the couch and jogged to the elevator. The doors opened and someone handed several bags to Tony. 

“Dinner is served!” He walked back over to the couch and deposited the food on the coffee table in front of them. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got a little of everything.” 

“Thank you, Tony.” 

“Sure thing, Cap. Can’t let you go hungry, now can I?” Tony settled back on the couch once he had finished opening all the bags and little, white boxes. “All right, J, queue up The Naked Time.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“The what?” Steve stared at him with wide eyes and Tony chuckled. 

“Relax, Steve. It’s the name of a Star Trek episode. One of my favorites, in fact. Now, keep in mind this show is from the 60s so it’s a little dated by today's standards.” 

“Gee, however will I manage?” 

“Shut up and eat your food, old man.” 

The screen came to life and the aforementioned episode of an old tv series started. Steve did his best to relax and to pay attention. He could see what Tony meant about it being a little dated. Steve had seen enough of modern films and tv to know that this was definitely not cutting-edge stuff. But it felt familiar to him. The fallacies of what they believed awaited humanity in the future, the stilted special effects, the old set. It all felt safe and warm and familiar. 

The episode was more comical than he had anticipated. Crew members fencing shirtless in the halls. Commanding officers crying in conference rooms and fighting each other. But his favorite part was easily the crew member who had shut himself in the engine room. As the familiar words of an old song started, Steve almost laughed. How many times had he heard this song? Just like this? Drunken and off key, tuneless but enthusiastic. 

“I love that song.” Steve had mentioned when the crew of the Enterprise was safe once again and the screen had faded to black. 

“What song?” Tony looked up at him. At some point, Tony had ended up with his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

“I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.” Steve smiled wistfully. “Guys used to sing it in the bar all the time.” 

“Bar? What bar?” He lifted his head off Steve’s shoulder to look at him better. 

“The bar I used to work in. Off of 3rd in Bay Ridge. Bunch of first-generation Irish immigrants. Get off of work and come in to get drunk.” 

“You worked in a bar?” 

“I was a bartender. They gave me a step stool to stand on. Buck always teased me about it. But I made decent tips. Tell enough sob stories about your dead parents and getting the shit kicked out of you for being short and mix that with enough pints.” Steve shrugged. “Sometimes the dames that came in with their boyfriends would feel sorry enough for me to convince their man to leave a better tip.” 

“You’re full of surprises, Steve Rogers.” Tony gave a teasing grin. “Who knew you were such a little punk? 

“I used to tell Peggy that if her name was Kathleen, it could be our song.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. She said it was a nice song but you couldn’t dance to it.” He smiled sadly and sighed. “Anyway, it was good. The show I mean. I liked it.” 

“Oh, yeah, right. Good? That’s good. I’m glad you liked it. I thought you might. Well, I mean, I thought you were a big nerd but turns out you were a little hoodlum.” 

“Well, if Pa taught me anything, it was that you gotta do what you have to survive.” Steve shrugged and leaned his shoulder into the couch to better face Tony but still be comfortable. “When Ma died, we were still in the middle of the Depression. Buck and I took whatever jobs we could find.” 

“Sometimes I forget just how much shit you’ve already lived through.” Tony reached over and brushed Steve’s hair back. “You’ve been through the Depression and World War II. And here I’ve been laboring under the delusional that you were a fragile kid who had barely lived at all.” 

“Well, I was that too.” Steve shrugged but couldn’t help leaning into Tony’s touch again. Couldn’t help but hold his breath and hope Tony would keep touching him. And he did. He ran his fingers into Steve’s hair and moved closer to him. He was studying Steve’s face. Maybe looking for a trace of all those years. All that hardship. Trying to reconcile who Steve had been with who he was now. Good luck, he thought. He couldn’t even do that. 

“And you’re still so damn young.” Tony almost looked grieved. 

“Not so young. 93 years old.” 

“No, you aren’t really. You aren’t even 30, Steve.” Tony got up on his knees, kneeling on the couch facing Steve. His other hand moved to his face too and Steve could hardly breathe. That thickness in the air was back only worse. Maybe he was dying. Maybe his 93 years were finally catching up with him. “Look at you. You’re still just a kid.” 

“Tony...” Steve didn’t know what he wanted to say. His hands in Steve’s hair was distracting and he couldn’t breathe through the thick tension that seemed to be escalating. It felt like the argument on the helicarrier again. They were too close. So close. In each other’s space, breathing each other’s air. Tony was searching Steve’s face. His eyes traveling over every freckle it seemed. “What are we doing?” 

“I don’t know.” Tony breathed his answer, never taking his eyes away from Steve. “Can you believe it? I have absolutely no idea.” Tony pulled Steve to him and their lips met in another kiss. But this was different from the quick, furtive one that Steve had given Tony that day in the gym. This was entirely different. 

Tony still tasted like oil and sunshine. But the coffee was traded in for cheap beer and sweet and sour pork. God, what the hell was he doing? Tony kept pulling Steve in deeper, pulling him forward until Steve was practically on top of him. He bent his knees up to accommodate Steve between his legs and his brain short-circuited. 

Steve could only do his best to try and keep up. When Tony tugged on his hair again, a lot less gentle this time, a spark shot down his spine and he gasped into Tony’s mouth. He gripped Steve’s ass and pulled him down into the crook of Tony’s legs. He was hard against Steve’s thigh and he didn’t think he would ever be capable of higher thought again. 

“Fuck.” Steve gasped harshly into Tony’s neck, dropping his forehead down onto his collarbone. Tony had pushed a thigh between his legs and had both hands on his hips now. His fingers dug into the denim at Steve’s hips as he tried to guide Steve into riding his thigh the way Tony was riding his. 

Tony grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him into a searing kiss. Fuck, he was hard and making out with Tony Stark on his couch in the penthouse of Avengers Tower. This, this was the height of absurdity. He might have laughed if Tony hadn’t rolled his hips and moaned into Steve’s mouth. 

Steve got his hands under Tony, running his hands up his back to his shoulders. He lifted Tony off of the couch and pulled him forward into his lap. Tony broke from the kiss in a loud groan as their cocks lined up together. 

“God, Steve.” Tony pushed his shirt up and Steve helped him pull it off. Once it was discarded, he pushed Steve down onto the couch. He leaned down and started kissing and sucking on Steve’s neck. His teeth scraped over his collarbone and his hips bucked up into Tony. “Fuck, look at you.” 

“Can’t. Too busy lookin’ at you.” Steve gripped his hips tightly for a moment before he started to push Tony’s shirt up. Tony took over and pulled the shirt over his head. 

“I appreciate that but you should really see yourself.” Tony rolled his hips again and Steve arched his back. 

“Tell me.” He could hardly breathe. He really was dying this time. 

“You’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful. And you look even better with teeth marks.” Tony leaned down again and bit his collarbone. Steve cried out and his hips jerked up again. His jeans were uncomfortably tight as his cock leaked precome. He cursed Tony for buying him new, tight fitting jeans. “So sensitive, aren’t you baby...” 

“God, Tony, please...” Steve didn’t know what he wanted. Aside from Tony. He knew that much. He wanted Tony and he wanted Tony to do anything he damn well pleased. 

“Please what? Tell me what you want?” He was rolling his hips against Steve’s and yep, there went thought processes again. 

“You. Fuck, Tony... Want you. Please.” His face was burning and he would probably feel ashamed about all of this later. Probably. Or it would fuel new dreams and nightmares. Because somewhere, in the back of his mind, in the part that was still able to think clearly, Tony was not his to keep. 

“You’ve got me, baby.” Tony kissed him again, exploring his mouth and biting his lower lip. “Tell me what you want. I know you know exactly what you want from me. Tell me and you can have it.” Steve was a mess. He couldn’t hardly think at all. He gripped Tony’s hips to still his movement and try to breathe. What did he want? What was he always dreaming about? Tony’s calloused hands on his hard cock. 

“Touch me. Want you...want you to touch me. Make me come.” He watched Tony’s eyes darken and felt his cock twitch. 

“You bet your sweet, tight ass I’m gonna make you come.” Tony moved down his body so he could unbutton and unzip his pants. Steve lifted his hips to aid in the removal of his jeans. Tony pulled them and his boxer briefs off in one tug. Steve kicked them off and pushed them to the other end of the couch. 

Tony straddled his thighs, still in his black sweatpants. Steve reached for him and ran his hands up his chest. The arc reactor was glowing in the dim light of the living room. Steve loved the way it made Tony’s face look. Casting shadows and making him even more beautiful. He felt Tony stiffen as he slowly traced around the reactor. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Tony.” Steve wished he had his sketchbook. He could sketch it later. He memorized every line of Tony’s face, every muscle of his chest and abdomen. He wanted to remember this exact moment for the rest of his life. Tony Stark, shirtless, straddling his thighs and about to make him come. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Tony grinned at him and wrapped a hand around his cock. Steve felt himself jerk in his hand. God, it felt better than he imagined it. “This what you want, Steve? My hand on your cock?” 

“Yeah, yes...fuck, Tony.” Steve closed his eyes and arched his neck, tossing his head back. He felt teeth biting into his neck and he moaned, bucking his hips and fucking Tony’s fist. 

“You’re so pretty when you curse.” Tony mumbled against his skin. “Do it again. Do it again for me, baby.” He twisted his wrist and Steve cried out. 

“Fuck me, Tony, please...” 

“That’s it, gorgeous. You’re close aren’t you?” 

“Yes...God, please...” 

“Look at me, baby.” Steve forced his eyes open to look up at Tony. “I want to see your face when I make you come.” And that was all she wrote. Steve came with a shout of Tony’s name, his back arching up off the couch. His orgasm was so intense, his vision blacked out. All he could do was hold on to Tony’s hips, groaning as he rode it out. 

When he finally got his vision back, it was to find Tony with his sweatpants around his thighs and his own cock in his hand. No, this was the moment Steve wanted to remember forever. Tony Stark, his pants around his thighs, his cock hard and straining in his hands, jerking off to the image of Steve coming. 

“Don’t.” Steve forced his sluggish body to move and he sat up. He gently took Tony’s wrist and pulled him away from his cock. Steve pushed him down onto the couch, hovering over him. “My turn. Wanna taste you.” 

“Steve, you don’t--” But whatever Tony had planned to say disappeared in a loud moan as Steve took the head of his cock into his mouth. He was a little out of practice but he figured if his muscle memory could still make the sign of the cross, he could still suck dick. He felt Tony’s hands in his hair again and Steve glanced up at him. He wanted to make Tony feel good. Make him feel like Steve had. Undone. Wrecked. 

Steve took more of Tony into his mouth, sucking on the head of his cock. The rest of Tony tasted a lot like his lips had. Oil, sunshine, the ocean. He tasted the way he felt. Warm. Safe. So fucking good. 

“Fuck, baby...” Tony pulled on his hair and Steve did his best to ignore the spark down his spine again. He started bobbing his head as he took all of Tony into his mouth. Steve had learned a very important trick that the serum had blessed him with. No gag reflex. He moaned around Tony as he sucked him off, gripping his thighs tightly. Probably leave bruises. Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“God, Steve, what the fuck...” Tony moaned and jerked his hips. “Just keep surprising me.” He tangled his hand in his hair and fucked into his mouth a few times before he was coming down Steve’s throat. Steve took it all and let Tony keep him right there for another minute or so. He was stroking his hair and trying to catch his breath. 

“Come here...” Tony pulled Steve up and into a kiss. He pushed his tongue into his mouth, tasting himself there on Steve’s tongue. “Christ, Steve...where did you learn to do that?” 

“Nazi Germany.” His voice was a little rough but he grinned at Tony, who was shaking his head. 

“If only Fury knew that his paragon of truth, justice, and the American way could suck cock like a pro.” 

“Not sure I want him to know that.” Steve sighed and collapsed to the side of Tony on the couch. They were silent for a few minutes and in those minutes, reality and the real world seemed to come crashing back in around them. 

God, what the fuck had they just done? Tony was still with Pepper. Still moving back to Malibu. Still Tony Stark. And Steve was still a kid from Brooklyn. Still probably moving to DC. Still wanting to keep Tony all to himself. 

“Tony...” He didn’t know what Tony heard in his voice but he seemed to understand. He stroked his hair again. 

“I know.” He murmured, kissing the top of his head. “I know.” 

“What now?” Steve looked up at him and for once, he felt like a kid. He didn’t feel like he was 92 anymore. He felt like he was 24 and had just fucked up royally and wanted someone older and wiser and smarter to tell him how to fix it. 

“I don’t know, Steve...” Tony sighed and looked down at him. “I don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! This is my first sex scene in a while so I hope it lives up to my own hype about it. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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